


Let be be finale of seem

by twirls



Category: One Direction (Band)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:24:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2823314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twirls/pseuds/twirls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Louis meets the ice cream man, he’s crashing a party.  Louis is, that is.  The ice cream man is there because he’s meant to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let be be finale of seem

**Author's Note:**

> This is too summery and too small to be a Christmas present really, but happy Christmas, happy winter break, happy hope-you're-feeling better to everyone who made 2014 better and happier for me. I owe you for a lot of things, but especially for making it seem like it was a good idea to learn all of One Direction's names. That was a terrible idea!!!
> 
> @Real_Liam_Payne: Ice cream I made yesterday Probably not gunna get that ice cream man job I applied for ... Damn it  
> http://twitter.com/real_liam_payne/status/474134739994279936

When Louis meets the ice cream man, he’s crashing a party. Louis is, that is. The ice cream man is there because he’s meant to be. Some posh, idiot parent went to the trouble of booking an ice cream van, but couldn’t be bothered either inviting Louis or putting in the security necessary to keep him out. Louis is covered in dirt, bored out of his mind, and exhausted after a day spent mucking in the dirt of other people’s gardens and being shouted at by a man wearing braces over his bare belly. It’s late afternoon and where the sun’s not beating down on the back of Louis’ sweaty t-shirt, it’s glinting off the mirrors of a perfectly beautiful ice cream van. The bit of pavement in front is roped off, with balloons tied to the bannisters and a festive sign reading “Private Party - Invited Guests Only.”

In the time it takes Louis to jog over and duck under the bell rope, a crowd has formed on the pavement, blocking his way. Some are saying goodbye - the party looks like it’s winding down - and most of the others are circled round something Louis can’t see; a juggler - either quite short or sitting down - and from the angle some of the pins are going at, not a particularly good one. Mostly it’s youngish kids here - the little brothers and sisters of people he knows. Some of them Louis recognizes from the twins’ form. If the twins had been invited to a party with an ice cream van, Louis would have heard about it, and he hadn’t. Not inviting his sisters is the most troubling on a growing list of marks against this party and everyone here. Louis is going to eat all the ice cream, because none of them deserve it.

He sidles closer to the van. It is, indeed, extremely posh. No ninety-nines, just a chalked up list of flavors - the scooping kind, _organic_. There’s a freckled kid standing at the window, shouting a series of complicated demands at the harried looking boy inside. Louis by now is right up to them, close enough to see that the ice cream man’s fringe is plastered to his forehead in the heat. He’s got on a little paper hat. Under it, there’s a serious, focused sort of face, eyebrows pinched as he strings strawberry laces across an absolute mess of an ice cream. He's taking ages.

By the time he’s passing it through the window, there are little rivers of melted ice cream rolling down the ice cream man’s arms. It's sort of mesmerizing, somehow. Louis must really be exhausted because he suddenly feels a bit lightheaded. When the kid takes his treat and walks away without saying thank you, Louis can only manage a sort of disapproving grunt. 

“Sorry,” says the ice cream man, peering out at him before ducking out of sight. “I’ll just be a moment.”

When he appears again his hands and arms are dripping with water instead. What Louis can see of his t-shirt has gotten wet and a little clingy to his chest. Louis shakes himself a little. This is not what he came here for.

“Alright,” says the ice cream man as Louis steps up to the window, “What can I do you for?” 

This is the bit where Louis had planned on pretending to be a party guest and copping a free ice cream or three. It’s probably pretty obvious he doesn’t belong, so he might have to put some effort into buttering this guy up. 

“That was completely disgusting,” Louis hears himself saying instead. “Worst ice cream scooping I’ve ever seen in my life. Do they pay you for this?” 

The ice cream man’s eyebrows draw together at first, but then his laugh seems to catch him by surprise. It certainly surprises Louis. It takes up his whole face, eyes scrunching closed. It’s a laugh like someone’s told an amazing joke. It’s not the kind of laugh you give a mouthy partycrasher with dirt on his knees.

“You’re not very polite,” says the ice cream man. He doesn’t sound upset about it, just matter-of-fact. “And I know it looks really simple but it’s actually quite difficult to get right.”

There is literally no easier job than scooping an ice cream cone, Louis thinks. Except maybe digging up weeds.

“Let me in the van,” he suggests, “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“You can’t,” says the ice cream man. “You haven’t got a food hygiene certificate.”

“How do you know I haven’t?”

“Have you?”

“No,” admits Louis, rocking back on his heels.

“Alright then,” says the ice cream man, “what’ll you have?”

“Chocolate,” says Louis, “if you must know. But as you’re clearly not up to the job, you’d really better let me come scoop it.”

The ice cream man won’t let him in the van, not even when Louis threatens to climb in through the window. He will chat with him though, as long as there’s not anyone trying to order anything. His name’s Liam, he’s been paid twelve pounds for tonight, and though he tries very hard, he really does make a terrible ice cream man. 

“Just a thought,” says Louis, as another child walks away holding something that could only under the most generous terms be considered a sundae, “but have you tried _not_ mangling it?”

“Have _you_ ever tried-“ Liam cuts himself short with a funny little motion.

“What?” 

“I just don’t think I should say anything really rude while I’m working,” says Liam apologetically.

“Why not?” says Louis. “I always do.”

“And you don’t get sacked?”

“Oh, I definitely get sacked.” Louis slurps the last bits of melting ice cream from the bottom of the cone and then pops the last of it into his mouth. “Been sacked twice since Thursday. Look what you’ve gone and done now,” he demands, holding out his hands, “I’m all sticky.”

The ice cream man's cheeks go pink, then he laughs like that’s hilarious. He really is incredibly easy to please. Louis tells him about the time Lottie had her tonsils out, and he thinks Louis' porridge-mouth imitations are hilarious too. He's such a good listener Louis finds himself explaining about the azaleas, and Liam agrees that it definitely wasn't Louis' fault what happened with Mr. Higgins' cat, even though it definitely was. 

Eventually Louis has to step back from the window to make way for a little girl whose face is already covered in chocolate. Liam instantly goes serious. As she’s very small and mumbling, he has to lean half way out the window to hear her put in her order. The ice cream comes out looking squashed and the biscuit is in sideways and precarious. In the pass through the window it drops off onto the ground. For a moment, it looks like there might be tears. Then Liam's passing her three extras, smiling in a sort of ill, desperate way. She sticks them in herself, wordlessly and with great care. Even after she's gone Liam’s still got that troubled, focused look, but when Louis follows his gaze there’s no one else waiting.

“About the certificate,” starts Louis, pushing forward, “it says here I can take the exam on my phone.”

Liam seems to come back to himself with a little jerk. 

“Really?” he says, sounding weirdly hopeful. 

“No.” Louis grins. “Haven’t twenty quid, and it looks dead boring. Can I come in the van?”

“No,” says Liam. But he does him another while they chat, strawberry this time. He even adds rainbow hundreds-and-thousands, for practice. It's messy, but it doesn't taste terrible. Louis leans back against the van to eat it. There’s not many new customers for a while, not with Louis staring them down. In the lull he helps Liam by coming up with rude names for all the ice cream flavors. 

Louis watches a smut-nosed kid pick his nose with his little finger. He lets his smile show his teeth. He feels it grow broader as Liam’s mouth quirks up too.

In the silence, Louis contemplates his evening. Liam has already laughed twice at awful jokes Louis cribbed from Niall, given him loads of useful information about his life, and not tried to charge him yet for either of the ice creams. What’s more, he’s done all of this for a complete stranger who, as must be completely obvious at this point, is a totally untrustworthy party crasher. He’s either a complete idiot, or just a terrible judge of character. 

Louis’ train of thought is interrupted as two larger boys push past him to the window, shouting about chocolate and marshmallow bits. While Liam scoops, they take turns trying to push each other down. Bored with that — Liam is really incredibly slow at this - they turn and start pushing Louis down instead. They’re not really rough at all, just playing, but Louis’ mobile cracks on the pavement and his ice cream gets squashed down his front. He elbows one of them in the ribs, and they back off. At Liam’s "Oi!" they collect their ice creams - even uglier than usual, so maybe Liam really was trying to rush - and trounce off. One of them calls Louis something nasty over his shoulder so he flips them the bird.

“This really is a terrible party,” says Louis, rubbing at his top where there’s ice cream cone bits smashed into it. “Can I come in the van?” 

“I’m really sorry,” says Liam, sounding like he means it. “It’s the only rule they told me, though.” 

“That’s alright,” lies Louis. His knees are starting to hurt, and he’s having all sorts of funny thoughts about the ice cream man’s eyes, and mouth, and teeth and things. The party is basically over, and he’d be best off leaving now, before it becomes too obvious how much he doesn’t belong, or how many free ice creams he’s been eating.

“It's all been bit weird, actually,” Liam is saying, still sounding thoughtful. “They didn’t even make me try out a scooping. Just looked at me, you know, up and down like,” he demonstrates and Louis forces himself to jut his chin, instead of living the rest of his life in a cardboard box like he wants to, “and said ‘Have you got a handler’s certificate?’ and I said ‘yes,’ and they said, ‘Don’t let anybody in the van. Lord knows, people will try,’ and then they laughed and sent me off here. I've been doing my best.” 

“Now you’re giving me the look,” says Liam. 

“It was Simon, wasn’t it?” Of course it was. Louis is suddenly furious. “Listen, I’ve worked in his hot dog carts. Simon doesn’t care about certificates or training or anything. It was just a stupid joke because you’re so bloody fit.” Oh, Louis could kick himself. It’s brain freeze. Brain freeze from the ice cream. He was having such a lovely time, and now this horribly gorgeous ice cream man is going to go all red and stammery and talk about his girlfriend, just when it was starting to feel like they could really be mates. Louis is not going to be able to bear it. 

But all Liam says is, “Oh." Then he smiles, eyes and mouth and teeth and things all lit up and better than ever. “I suppose you can come in the van then.”


End file.
